


Threshold

by Leytivia



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leytivia/pseuds/Leytivia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By a fluke, Olivia and Peter are reunited after being separated for 6 years. But their days together are still numbered, is this their second chance at love, or just a second chance at goodbye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

-Prologue-

"If you could have one wish, son, what would it be?" Walternate's voice was cold. The question was not a conversation starter, nor a way to simply get to know his son. It was interrogation.

"You already know the answer to that." Peter's voice was equally as cold. They had had conversations like this before, even if not in this context, the topic was always the same. He knew his father knew what the answer to that question was.

Walternate's expression didn't change, not even offering the slightest bit of sympathy. One of the painfully obvious differences between him and Walter, "Right. The girl."

"The girl." Peter scoffed in a mock tone. "You-you of all people know loss. Is it that irrational of me to think you could at least pretend to care, just a little?"

"I understand how you feel, but as you can see I got by just fine."

Peter was in utter disbelief at what he was hearing. And he Walter wad deranged. This on the other hand was something entirely different. "Yes, you are just fine," Peter sneered, "Brutally tearing apart another world, all because you couldn't let go of me. And I am open to believe that in the beginning this was all about 'love,' but not now, not anymore. For the longest time this was about revenge, and as far as I am concerned, in the back of your mind, it always will be.

"To some extent that is all true," Walternate admitted, "But correct me if I'm wrong; in the back of your mind you are equally as willing to destroy the world to be reunited with the people you love."

It hit Peter like a ton of bricks-or more like an entire building. Maybe it was true, but if the opportunity ever came about, he didn't think he could find himself selfish enough to actually go through with it.

'Be a better man than your father.'

He had to hold onto that.

"Maybe so," Was all he could answer with, "But I know that I can't."

There was a brief uncomfortable silence. "Peter, do you know how it was first brought to my knowledge that you were on the other side, after you were taken?"

Peter was honestly ready to throw back any negative comment at what he was about to say, but this caught him off guard. He had never really thought about it. He had always assumed that he just knew it was Walter. It was not something he ever even cared to think about. "No, I don't." He answered, once more, coldly.

"Six months after you disappeared I was sitting in my office. In Jacksonville-" It was amazing how Peter already wanted him to just shut up. As intrigued as he was, he had no reason to think that this wasn't just another lie. "It was a night just like all of the others. I sat there wondering, wondering what happened to you. Going through every possibility in my head just like I had every night before that, hoping that I would somehow reach a new conclusion. But no luck, as usual. I was at a loss. And then, out of absolutely nowhere appeared a young girl."

Peter's face immediately contorted into an utter look of confusion. He could have stopped his father right then and there to call out his bullshit. "Okay…" He drawled instead.

Walternate continued, "I remember so clearly. She was crying, making some plea to me about her stepfather. To be honest I was in such disbelief I couldn't say anything, I wasn't even sure if it were real. I was remarkably confused to say the least. And then came her confession about seeing another universe, this universe, sufficed to say."

Peter couldn't decide whether he wanted to throw up, or just kill his father right then and there with the first blunt object he could find. Was this some kind of joke? Was it still not enough? His 'father' had gotten everything he had ever wanted, and yet still he had to play these sick mind games. What was this? "What in the world are you saying?" His disgust was unavoidable.

"Let me finish," Walternate replied darkly, emphasis on every word, "She was gone as quickly as she appeared. But she did leave something behind."

Peter inhaled sharply, his blood was boiling, "And I don't suppose you still have whatever that was, do you?"

He didn't answer, getting up from his seat and retrieving said object from a locked drawer on his desk instead.

It was a notebook of sorts, as he got closer Peter could tell the cover was filled with illustrations that appeared to have been drawn by a child. Walternate handed the book to him, but Peter didn't look at it, he kept his eyes on his father the whole time. He ran his fingers over the tattered edges, until his eyes averted to the center.

There; in faded child's handwriting were brightly colored letters that spelled out 'Olivia.'

What was this?

Peter flipped through the first pages, finding typical children's drawings. "Keep going." Walternate urged.

And there it was. On now yellowed paper, was a drawing of two kids, holding hands. The writing underneath it simply read, 'Peter, Olivia.'

He swallowed whatever pain was now quickly growing within him. It all made sense now, kind of. If this were real, if Walternate was in fact telling the truth, and Olivia had in fact been the key to His discovery all of these years ago; then why did he hate her so much? She had answered the one single burning question in his mind. Maybe he could understand that-in a way- Peter had chosen Olivia over his father long before he even realized it. Long before it was intentional.

Peter had come to accept that he didn't remember most of his childhood, and eventually believed that it was a good thing. But oh how he wished to remember this. Because this meant he had forgotten Olivia before.

Did it mean it would happen again?

It couldn't. He didn't even know how to feel right now. Peter probably would have done nothing short of raging at his father if he hadn't been so incredibly confused. He didn't even know why either. Maybe letting himself be confused was easier than letting himself feel the true heartbreak that was breaking it's way through. And over all; he couldn't help but wonder if Olivia remember that time. Their real first meeting. And if she didn't remember now, would she ever?

Like it mattered.

He would probably never know.


	2. Chapter 1

"No." Her own words only echo as she wakes up.

She hadn't let herself dream of him in the longest time. In the beginning she did frequently, every night almost, but eventually she learned that waking up alone hurt more than the dreams made her happy.

It was no longer worth it. There was no more hope. The dreams used to be her inkling of that, but now they were just painful reminders of what once was.

What could have been.

It was inevitable though, how he would still sometimes slip himself into her subconscious, and she wouldn't be able to push him away. Maybe it was some stupid metaphor. A dream symbolizing some deeper and greater meaning. That deeper meaning being; she couldn't just push him away, or bury the memories. It would always be there.

He would always be there.

But yet, there she was. Alone. That inevitable ache in her heart keeping her from finding sleep again any time soon. And maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the dream, but the dismal feeling that now filled the air was so heavy that it almost hurt. It was unavoidable and almost felt like a dream sort of state. Though, this was definitely not a dream. She had learned to tell the difference far too well.

Even the silence hurt too. She turned on the TV and let the banter of new age cookware lull her thoughts. For the most part, she never really found sleep again that night. Though she waited until the first bouts of the sunrise to get herself out of bed.

Funny how there was nothing promising about this moment, and what had brought her hope years ago was now only a reminder of another endless day ahead. A day full of dead-ends. Or like the end of a record, just endlessly turning. And no one had bothered to change it yet.

Sometimes she wondered if she should b the one to take the step, to change things. But that would involve making an effort she wasn't sure was willing to give.

How do you let go of something when you don't really have to? When there is still hope that you wouldn't have to. When there is still something, anything to hold on to.

Because, despite it all, Peter was in fact not dead. At least as far as she knew.

He was not dead. He was somewhere. Olivia even knew where. It was simply the risk of getting there that was a road block. If getting there were still even possible.

Just another mystery to solve, not that she could say she hadn't tried; tried to crossover any time within the last three years. She had, she had even gone against Walter's orders to do so. But there were no satisfying results.

Or results at all, really. It wasn't for lack of trying, there was just something in her way.

"Agent Dunham," Came a voice later that day. Snapping her back into reality for the hundredth time. She hummed in acknowledgement, "What were you just thinking about?" Walter asked curiously.

She hesitated, shaking her head hastily, "Nothing." Olivia replied with an attempted smile.

"Nonsense," Walter retorted, "you were clearly just thinking about something important, very intently may I add, given your sudden disconnection from reality.

She sighed, shrugging, "The usual." She said, knowing he would know what she meant.

"Oh." Walter huffed sadly, face going solemn in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sorry." Olivia apologized, offering an innocent smile, like a gesture of comfort.

"It's alright," He assured, "I'm the one who asked."

Olivia couldn't help but still feel unsettled. She couldn't help that the thoughts from the night before were coming back to her. It wasn't a foreign feeling, though that didn't make it any less unpleasant.

Because this was what it was like when she wasn't numb.

When she wasn't numb. She felt this.

"Olivia…" Walter stammered then. Sounding apprehensive, yet, somehow sure of himself at the same time.

"Yeah?"

"I know…I know it is a bitter thought, but, since we are on the subject…"

"Walter, we really don't have to talk about it. I…I'm sorry I said anything."

He ignored her apology, "Do you ever thinkg about…giving up on it."

She was far to aware of what 'it' was pertaining to.

"Walter-" she choked desperately, but he cut her off by giving her the most broken look in the world, as if so she would know he was not happy with the words he was saying. Maybe just vocalizing the thought. "-I do…a lot, but-"

"I'm tired of this haunting me, of feeling this burden, of searching for answers to questions that I already know." She knew what he meant, "Peter is gone…and if there were a way to get him back I feel like I would have found it by now.

Olivia's face twisted with utter despair, "Maybe you're right. Maybe we're not meant to save him.

"Olivia…"

"But that's never stopped you from trying, has it?" There was the slightest bit of determination in her voice.

Walter didn't have to respond, the look on his face said it all. "You're not helping." He said then, almost laughing.

"I've seen you do a lot of things, Walter, but never give up. Never entirely. Especially not on Peter. I say; try one last time. And if then, if it doesn't work. Then we can try to let this go."

Walter looked up at her desperately, "Okay…okay. Just this last time. Olivia gave him a soft smile, she was really trying hard not to pour every one of her last desires into this, "Will you help me?" Walter asked then.

"Of course." She replied, "I always will."

Three more years had passed since that day.

That day that was only the beginning of the last failure. The first of the last of the dreams.

Until now of course. They had started again. But now she damned herself for even thinking about him.

Now it had been six years since she had seen Peter. Six years since she had seen his face, since she had felt his arms around her.

Since she had heard his voice…The voice that she had now long forgotten. Just like so many other things. Like the way he would put his hands on her face, and somehow that would instantly bring comfort. And he would give her that smile the could melt her heart, and those eyes that melted the rest of her. The memory was ever so hazy now. But maybe because whenever she tried to remember, she would associate it with wonder about him. She would wonder what he was doing at that moment, what he was thinking about, thinking about her. Wondering if he missed her like she missed him.

She missed him.

And that was all there was to it. There was no longer unbearable pain, no anger, or denial. She just missed him. She regretted not spending more time around him in those last days, oh the things she would have told him. And above all; she hated never getting a proper goodbye. Sometimes she was willing to compromise; she didn't need Peter back for a lifetime. Just for a minute, so she could tell him goodbye for good. So she could get at least a little bit of closure, somehow. But that was how life works, she guessed.

But that didn't matter now. She would never see him again, and that was that. She hadn't accepted that necessarily, and she probably never would. What she had accepted was that this was what her life was now. Somehow she had made peace with that.

Somehow.


	3. Chapter 2

It was a good thing the moon was so bright that night, or there would have been no light at all. The way the water was illuminated almost made it look dream like. Appropriate; given that was how she felt. She hadn't been back here in years, and this was her last chance to change things. She put all of her hopes into this mission because if this didn't work; she didn't know what she would do. She couldn't think about that, not now.

She got as close to the water as possible, stumbling on the unsteady ground a couple of times. She placed Walter's device in the wet sand and did exactly as he had told her to do. Pushing every button accordingly and precisely. She would not screw this up. She was heavily dosed with Cortexiphan at the moment and she could feel it running heavily through her veins. It was a strange feeling, hard to describe, but she always felt sort of off when her abilities were activated. And she hadn't used her abilities in years, she almost had forgotten what it felt like. She pulled her satchel securely over her shoulder, all it contained was an extra set of clothes and a stack of ten dollar bills-the largest currency that was the same on the Other Side. Olivia activated the device, closing her eyes and letting her mind slip away. The tranquil sounds of the woods around her helped ease her mind, and she was grateful for that. She waited. The device clicked. One…Two…Three…

Nothing.

She tried again, and a third time, and a fourth. Still nothing. She cursed out loud, a fury of anger building inside of her as she pounded on the device in frustration. Her anger only turned to despair, a lump in her throat formed after the fifth time she tried with no luck. She kneeled in the sand, the bottoms of her jeans becoming unavoidably soaked from the water only feet away, but she was beyond caring. She had prepared herself for this, but that didn't stop the tears that she tried so hard to suppress. Like it mattered; there was no one around.

She was alone, like she had been for so long. And evidently; like she would always be-as far as she was convinced. There was no one there, no one to hear her yell 'no' over and over again. She couldn't help but think to herself how pathetic she must look, sitting in the wet sand at three in the morning, with technology like no other; all a feeble attempt to find her lost love whom she had lost to another universe so many years ago. She thought of him then, and how he always believed in her. How her powers seemed to be unlimited when he was around.

But he wasn't there now. And maybe that was why it wasn't working.

Now, she thought of him. She let herself think of him harder than she had in a long time. Maybe the connection was still there somehow. She tried again.

Still nothing.

She breathed out sounds of despair, letting herself be washed over with the truth; that it was over.

Where was she supposed to go now?

Then she felt weak. Like every bit of life was slowly being drained out of her. She was not sure if was natural or not, but hardly cared. She knew she wouldn't die. High doses of Cortexiphan sometimes had harsh side effects, but they never killed her. Walter even said so; her body was so used to the drug now that it would take massive, massive amounts for it to become even mildly life threatening.

Not that that was important now.

She thought of Walter, and how she was letting him down now too. Even if it weren't entirely her fault. He would blame himself, she figured. And she did not want to see that. She had let herself down too, and above all, Peter. She had let Peter down this last time, and he would never even know it. The ache in her chest grew, and even if it were just a side effect; she swore this was what it was like to feel your heart break. She tried one last time, knowing that if nothing else; the devices batteries would give out soon. Nothing happened, or so she thought.

And everything went black.

She was found early in the morning. A man who lived near the lake walked his dog there every day around sunrise. He was no one important or significant to her. No one who would have known her from the other side. Just a man who was shaken up at finding an unconscious woman during his early morning stroll. She thought she was dead, evidently. A body that had been discarded into the waters; or had drowned, no washing to shore. It wouldn't be the first time. But as he got closer he realized there was still color on her skin, and her breathing was shallow, but it was there. She couldn't have been in the water anyhow; her hair and clothes were completely dry. Other than what was affected by the wet sand. The man tore through the bag he found next to her looking for any sort of identification. But to no avail. He couldn't wake her up. Paramedics and police arrived some twenty minutes later.

As a result of her lack of identity, they ran facial recognition. Only to confirm that she was in fact Olivia Dunham.

"Nonsense." A nurse said when she pulled up Olivia's medical record, "Olivia Dunham has been dead for six and a half years."

Great.

Truth be told, doctors there had seen it all. Sometimes there would be anomalies like two people looking exactly like each other; but having no blood relation. Sometimes records were wrong. Or maybe she had faked her death. This was something completely different, though. DNA came back to confirm that she was who she was.

Sometimes you haven't seen it all.

It was their obligation to call her next of kin.

Marilyn didn't take it well to say the least.

Her first reaction was to call Peter. "I just got a call from the hospital…" She told him, "They said they found Olivia unconscious somewhere upstate…Olivia is dead, Peter."

"I know she is." His words were dark, but caring. The notion that it was his Olivia hadn't even entered his mind yet. He wasn't sure what to believe. People don't just come back from the dead-albeit he had done it before. But the situation was entirely different. He didn't want this to be happening. Because whatever it was, it wasn't good. All this was going to do was induce pain and open old wounds. For a moment he blamed the hospital, because his anger needed to be directed somewhere. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes." Marilyn whispered over the phone.

Peter's relationship with Marilyn was unfortunate. At least, it wasn't the kind of relationship someone would hope for with the grandmother of their child. When she first found out that Peter was Henry's father it came as shock. There was resentment in the beginning. He had only come back a few months after that Olivia had died. She was grieving, so she blamed Peter for leaving his son, and in a way for the death of her daughter. Even though neither were really his fault, he didn't know. Their relationship grew and became friendlier as Henry got older, but even Peter with his knack for reading people felt paranoid at times. Not that he exactly 'comfortable' around her at first either. In his mind the Marilyn Dunham he knew of had died a long time ago. It was so strange, and almost felt wrong. Just like everything else had at the time. She had full custody of Henry at the time Peter came back, and he didn't even think to interfere with that. She was grieving, and her grandson was all she had. Peter wouldn't even think about taking that away.

"What do you need me to do?" Peter asked her when he got to her house.

She was hesitant, "Can you go there for me? To the hospital. Find out something. I don't want to face this right now."

"Of course." Peter replied quietly, "I don't know how much they'll actually tell me, but I'll try my best."

"You have a way with people, I'm sure it will be okay." Marilyn told him genuinely.

Peter smiled shyly, "Let's keep Henry away from this, at least for now, it will probably just get confusing and I don't think that will be good for him."

She nodded, "It's for his own good, thank you, Peter."

"No need." He assured.

More or less, it took a lot of convincing for him to get them to talk. He could have easily gotten information if he has used his Fringe Division connections, but they were the last people who needed to know about this right now. The idea of this being his Olivia eventually came to him during the long ride there, and the idea didn't leave. It honestly was his most rational theory. More believable than someone coming back from the dead. Maybe she had finally done it, finally crossed over after so many years. In the back of his head he always thought that if she were able to, she would have done it by now. But maybe things changed, maybe she couldn't. He tried not to play 'what if' too much. But it was unavoidable. The thought was there, and he was trying to get his hopes up. He thought then that maybe it was a shape shifter somehow, even though they were almost positive they all died out a long time ago.

He hated to do it-whoever she was; he needed to see her-Peter pulled the 'mother of my child' card and eventually they gave in. Not to mention that they knew who Peter was, and the last thing they needed was the Secretary of Defense all over that hospital.

Peter walked down the hallway, he spent a few minutes standing outside of the room he was told she was in. His hand grabbed the doorknob, but he couldn't avert his gaze to look through the glass. Part of him just couldn't. For all he knew this could be the one moment that he had only dreamt of for so long, and all he was doing was delaying it. He was scared, for so many reasons. And above all; scared of the disappointment that he was most likely about to face.

But then he stepped inside her room, and started to believe that he was wrong. He started to hope.

There she was.

Her gold hair laid messily against the pillow, and the white sheets contrasted her still yet seemingly pale skin.

He knew.

Slowly, he walked over to her bedside, pulling one of the chairs next to her bed. Intuitively he grabbed one of her hands in his, and used his other to stroke her hair and then her cheek, cradling it lightly. He almost invasively felt all of the features of her face, just to make sure she was real. He didn't care. She was unconscious anyway. The doctor had explained to him that there was no brain trauma or anything in her system that would result in her being in this state, he ignored them, thinking they had just missed something. But now that he saw her he understood, he had seen her like this before. And she would come out of it.

"Olivia…" He whispered, holding her hand so tight that she probably would have flinched if she were awake. She didn't react. "I'm here." He knew she could hear him, when she had fallen into these presumed 'Cortexiphan comas' before, she told him how she could hear him, even though she couldn't understand what he was saying. She could somehow feel that he was there. Peter continued to talk to her, mostly telling her how much he missed her, but saving some of it. For later on when she would be able to respond.

He sat there for a little over two hours, but it felt like days. Inevitably he grew impatient. But finally, she slowly stirred from her current state.

Olivia opened her eyes, and through her hazy vision she could tell she was in a hospital. Her heart instantly dropped to her stomach, thinking something had went wrong trying to cross over. But when more of her senses came to function again, she could tell there was someone else in the room. She felt there was another hand holding her own. She turned her head and she could only see his shape through her blurry vision. Could it be? She thought. She blinked heavily a few times, realizing it was true. Somehow.

She didn't say anything, she couldn't. She was in shock and simply stared at him for a few seconds, taking him in. Peter stroked her cheek, and she sighed now knowing that this was real. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, while pain was still evident behind his eyes.

"Peter." She rasped, hardly louder than a whisper.

"Hi." He breathed at the same volume, full of relief and something else. He leaned over her, placing his forehead on her own.

Her arms weakly grabbed his face, "Peter…" She whispered again, as if she was telling herself he was here. "What happened?" She had no recollection of how she got here.

Peter could tell she was still not entirely aware, though, "I don't know." He told her with a yet relieved laugh, "…You did it." And she didn't have to ask what she did. She knew. But her state got the best of her again, she relaxed into the bed again, letting go of his face. She slipped away again for a few seconds, but Peter didn't care. He understood. She was here, with him. And that was more than enough. He was still partially leaning over her when she opened her eyes again, she smiled. After a few minutes things started to make sense again, she became aware of everything around her. And Peter could see it, he could see the color come back to her face and her eyes began to sparkle again. Just like he remembered her. He sat on the bed next to her, and she pulled herself up so she could be at her level. He put a hand on her shoulder, but it wasn't enough. He could read it on her face, and he pulled her to him as tightly as he could.

It was a moment where everything came together again. The reunion they both had only dreamt of for years. He kept one hand on her head while the other was wrapped tightly around her middle, he rocked her as he rubbed small circles onto her back. Olivia wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. He could feel her crying beneath his grasp, and he only pulled her tighter, if that were even possible.

"I'm here." He tried to hush her, "I'm here."

That only made her cling to him harder, words being confirmation of what she had wanted for so long. He was there. It was funny how she had forgotten the sound of his voice, and the feel of his touch, yet at the instant she had those things again she wondered how she could ever forget.

She never gave up hope, she never let go of this. Despite how many people told her she should. It didn't matter now, they didn't matter now. It was worth it.

They were together, now.

More realization hit her, she pulled away just enough so she could see his face, "What are you doing here?" She asked then, "How did you know I was here?"

Their faces were only inches apart, Peter could see her eyes were now a stunning shade of green from the tears she had shed, he missed that-looking into here eyes when he spoke to her. "I uh…you had no ID on you, Olivia. But they were able to prove you were Olivia Dunham, but this Olivia has been dead for a long time. They called Marilyn…and she called me." He swallowed, realizing that there was going to be a lot of explaining to be done, from both of them. No doctor was going to have the sense to just release a dead woman. And they were lucky the police weren't involved with this yet.

"Oh," was all she said, "You know, my plan was to find you and stay in hiding, and now…"

She had just impossibly hopped universes, the last thing Peter wanted her to do was worry. She had made it this far, "I'll figure something out," he comforted, "You're here…the last thing I can do is make sure you're safe.

She smiled then, "Thank you."

Somehow Peter used his ways to take her home with him. When he explained it to her she almost laughed at the conman that was still inside of him.

They knew this was only the beginning, that people were eventually going to find them and questions were going to be asked. But they couldn't worry about that now.

Outside of the hospital, Olivia took in her surroundings, it was all the same-yet it wasn't. But there was Peter. And that was all she needed. Her minded drifted for a moment, snapping back to reality when she felt his hand take hers. She smiled, like she always had when he did that. It was those simple small gestures that she had missed.

"You okay?" Peter asked.

She nodded, "Yeah," she breathed, smiling, "I'm okay."

Before they went any further Peter turned towards her. He used the thumb of his free hand to draw a line on her chin. There was no question asked, he leaned in and kissed her deeply and lovingly. Another thing he thought he'd never be able to do again. Olivia opened her eyes when they pulled apart, for a second the glimmer was there-well, everywhere-and she didn't even know why. But like that it was gone, and Peter could almost tell. "I missed you." He told her then, quietly.

Olivia nodded, unable to speak, but if it weren't obvious enough he could read it on her face. She missed him too.


	4. Chapter 3

The ride from the hospital was comfortably silent. There was nothing to be said then, not exactly.

In the past some of their deepest conversations stemmed from long car rides between New York and Boston, and the various other cities that cases lead them, but that wasn't the situation now. This was not a venture home from a case,

This was them together after an excruciatingly long time, where just each other's presence was enough.

"Make yourself at home," Peter told her when they got to his place. It was a small, simple apartment. Almost predictable. And Olivia knew that he could live anywhere he wanted, but chose this. He chose the non-luxurious life, because that wasn't who he was. Nor was that anyone he would ever claim to be, because that was not who he wanted to be. He could pull the 'Secretary of defense's famous kidnapped son,' card any time he wanted to, but he never did. At any given time within those six years, he would have happily gone back to being that nobody with a trouble past. Because at least that Peter was loved, that Peter was happy. Not to say that he wasn't loved here, but-like everything else-it was so entirely different.

"Thank you," Olivia replied, smiling. She sat down on his couch and cradled her head in her hands.

Peter placed himself next to her, "So how'd you do it?…Cross over."

She shook her head slowly, "I wish I knew. I don't even remember doing it. I just remember battling with Walter's device, he said it would 'help' me cross in case the universe decided to defend itself, but it wasn't working. That's as much as I can recall, and then I woke up and I was here."

That was all the answer he needed, what more would she have to tell, really? "Okay," Peter whispered comfortingly, "You want something to eat?" He asked then, "Or I can make coffee."

"You have coffee?" She almost laughed.

Peter shrugged, "Maybe sometimes I use my connections to my advantage."

"I'm okay, thank you." Olivia said, letting out a breathy laugh.

Then she felt his hand on her back, "I guess you still haven't found a way to control the side effects of using your powers." It was evident enough as he she looked incredibly tired, almost sickly, and by the way she held her head in her palms, "You still don't hide it well."

Olivia sighed, "I wasn't trying," she paused, "I gave up on my abilities a long time ago. After you were gone…it was just pointless."

They both very well knew that he was a catalyst to her powers anyway. Trying to use them without him was virtually a lost cause.

Olivia pursed her lips and looked down at the floor, "Hey," Peter said, "We don't have to talk about that now."

Nodding, she leaned into him resting her head on his shoulder, figuratively letting the world disappear around her. Peter kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. Being so incredibly drained from everything that had just happened, she could have fallen asleep right then and there without care. She fought it, though. They had only been reunited for a few hours, she wanted to stay conscious for at least a little bit more of it.

"I've missed you so much." She told him then for what felt like the dozenth time.

"I know," he whispered into her hair, "I know."

It was funny how in the back of her mind, Olivia had always had this long mental list of all of the things she would say to him. If that day were to ever come. That all felt so obsolete now, though. The words didn't matter anymore.

Peter had a same list, and they would both tell each other everything in time.

It was then that they realized that maybe this is what love really was.

Love was the presence of the other person, not the words that were said.

Anything important didn't have to be said anyway. They knew. And truth be told; their lack of speaking probably stemmed from them both being in some state of shock, too.

"How's Walter?" Peter asked after a while.

She surprised that he hadn't asked that sooner.

"He's…" There weren't really words for the nothing short of Hell that the last six years had been, "You said it yourself, he was never good at letting you go. Physically he's alright, otherwise…"

She didn't have to finish, "He's someone else." Peter said. He knew.

"Yeah." Olivia breathed, "He took it so hard in the beginning, and not much has changed. He just got used to it. We both did."

Peter unconsciously stroked the back of her head, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said against his shoulder. "It all happened so fast."

"I still feel guilty…somehow…You know I worried about you."

"You what?" She asked then, sitting up so she could look at him.

"Yeah. I worried about you, despite it all I just wanted to know you were alright…even though I know you weren't…neither was I."

"Peter…" She could see how broken it made him feel, it was written all over his face, it made her ache. There weren't words for what she was feeling, "I'm okay now." She told him instead.

"Yeah, you are."

And that was enough for him.

"You know, Peter, you really don't phase me as a Lego kind of guy." Olivia joked, picking up a plastic structure off of the side table.

He chuckled quietly, "That's…" his tone changed, "Henry's."

Olivia's mouth formed a thin line, she didn't have to ask, she just nodded slightly, "You never told me his name." She demurred.

"I never knew it until after I came back," he informed, honestly. There was a pause, then something else clicked in his head, "Excuse me…I have to call someone."

Olivia looked at him, confused, but let it slide, "Of course."

Peter went into the other room, and she used this as an opportunity to look around. The shelves behind her were full of picture frames and other memorabilia. Part of her ached at the fact that Peter had somehow made a life for himself here, while she spent years doing the opposite. But another part; a larger part of her-was so happy for him. Happy that at least one of them found some sort of meaning out of this. She stopped at one picture, tracing her thumb around the somewhat dusty frame. It held a picture of a little blonde boy-maybe four or five years old-holding a baseball bat and showing off a cheeky smile. If the photo weren't so current she would have sworn it was a picture of Peter as a boy. It reminded her so much of the one Peter used to keep in his bedroom. The same one that had spent years accumulating dust inside a cardboard box that she shoved in the back of a closet. It was cliché and almost pathetic, keeping a container full of memories of a lost loved one. That she, no less; hid somewhere out of sight so that she wouldn't have to be reminded of it. Not that it was very effective, anyhow.

Peter walked back into the room, he gave her a knowing look when he found her looking at the photographs. Ignoring the subject for a moment, though, "I really, really hate to do this. But I need to take care of something. Will you be okay alone for a couple of hours?"

Before she could even answer, he could read it on her face that the answer was no. He was more than understanding of her reasoning, too. To be honest he still didn't know who knew she was here either, and being alone in this universe was the last thing she wanted in any way, at least for now.

"No, not really," she answered then, "but if you need to take care of something, I understand. Can you at least tell me where you're going?"

"I have to go talk to Marilyn." Peter answered dryly, almost sounding more cold than he had intended. It was a sore subject, but even more than that it was just strange.

Olivia almost wanted then, for him to let her go with him. Though she knew that she couldn't. "Oh." Was all she replied with, instead.

"I'll explain when I get back. I promise." Peter put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She trusted him. "And if it's any mental relief, there's a gun in the top shelf of my closet." They both laughed at that.

What he didn't know was that there was one in her jacket too. And how she had gotten that in and out of the hospital without any question was beyond her.

"I'll try not to take too long." Peter assured, hugging her tightly once more before he left. He was pretty sure in the past Olivia would have been humorously annoyed with him, but now she only returned the gesture. It was the small moments like these that they had missed out on, and they were slowly making up for it. He kissed the top of her head, "I love you," He told her casually and quietly. She gave him a knowing look, she didn't have to say it back. He knew. Even if he hadn't said those words to her in so long, even if she hadn't heard them in that same amount of time; he knew.

They were always more than just words.

After he left, Olivia utilized the time to 'look around' Peter's apartment. She would hardly consider it snooping, she was just curious. She wanted to see more of the life he had been living for over half a decade. The place was simple and organized, a few objects here and there that made it evident that a child lived there from time to time. Toy boats in the bathroom and board games under the coffee table. Maybe it was wrong to assume; but she really didn't think Walternate was the one coming over to play Yahtzee.

She eventually grew bored of this, not wanting to figure out too much. She wanted to leave some things to talk about.

Not that that would be an issue, really.

After about a half hour, the day got the best of her, she fell asleep on Peter's couch. Only to be awoken some time later by Peter coming home.

Another thing she forgot she missed.

She missed being greeted by his warm smile-like she was now-after a long day.

And of course, Peter missed coming home to her. Even the days where she would tell him to come by later that night, and he would have to use her hiding-key to get in because she was already asleep. Times like those were almost endearing to him. And evidently, they still were. Still are.

"Hi," he greeted happily. His visit with Marilyn hadn't gone so well, but that was to be understood. He expected it almost. It left him in not the greatest mood after he left, but he then thought about the fact that he wasn't going home to an empty house. Olivia was there, really there. Waiting for him. And opening the door to find her-in fact waiting for him-made it okay.

It was like that blissful stage of a new relationship all over again. All down to the butterflies when you see the person, and smiling when you even just think about them. Honestly; their relationship never really left that stage, not entirely.

Their relationship never had time to grow old, before they were forced apart. Whatever this was, this rebirth between them. This return of happiness; it didn't really have a name.

They were able to breathe again, without that lingering tinge of pain. They one that no matter how small, was always there. And would never go away.

Olivia smiled at his greeting, "sorry I was gone so long," Peter continued.

"It's alright," she affirmed, getting up to follow him down the hallway. She had no idea how much time had actually passed, anyway. "Should I even ask how things went?" Olivia went on apprehensively.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," he ensured.

Olivia shrugged, "It's up to you what you tell me…it's not really my place."

"It's about you," Peter informed then, even though she already knew, "so it is your place." There was not accusation nor did he seem frustrated. He wanted her to know that she was entitled to know anything and everything she wanted to.

This whole situation lead back to her, after all.

"At least tell me why you seem…upset," Peter turned around to her with an inquisitive look. "You don't hide things well either." She imparted. As if it weren't obvious enough from the way he took out his took out his frustration on those poor counter tops, "You're gonna run out of surface cleaner," Olivia half-joked, grabbing his arm. He couldn't help but grin at her gesture.

Still, he wasn't going to tell her how things really went, unless she asked.

He wasn't going to tell her how Marilyn had threatened to bring his father into this. How she had accused him of choosing this quote un quote "stranger out of thin air" over this son. Which was not the case, not at all. It upset him as a father the look on his sons face when he thought that Peter was leaving for good. And when he asked if he didn't want him anymore, it tore him apart. Peter he then promised him about a thousand times that he wasn't going anywhere. And that they would see each other that weekend like they always did.

Be a better man than your father.

He had sworn long ago to always hold truth to that, no matter what. Henry had only heightened the meaning of that statement.

That was the reason Peter was so angry right now. Knowing that he was the cause of his own child's pain.

No one wants that.

"The alternate version of her dead daughter just appeared out of nowhere." Peter told her instead, "No one is going to take that well. At least, not people who unlike you and me, are 'normal.'"

"Oh, we're not normal?" She asked sarcastically.

"Alternate versions of people…or just people in general popping up out of the blue-just another day to me."

Olivia could tell he was pulling jokes to avoid the subject, and she wasn't going to force him to say anything. Even if he had told her it was okay. There were a million questions that she wanted to ask him at that moment, but none of them really seemed fitting.

Peter lead them back into the living room, Olivia's eyes immediately averted back to that picture. Maybe it wasn't fitting, but her curiosity got the best of her. "What's he like?" She asked him then, turning from the picture to Peter.

He knew who she was talking about, he sighed deeply, "He looks like me," Peter started, Olivia would have rolled her eyes if it weren't for his solemn voice, as if that weren't obvious. He continued, "But he's a lot like her…I'm guessing. I-he does things, and they just…They remind me of you. And then I remember-" he paused, as if there were a way to say this without causing some sort of despair, "You two must have been more alike than you realize, or at least…more than you let yourself realize."

Olivia had every reason to not accept their likeness at that moment. This was another one of those things that she and Peter had gotten to share, that they couldn't, and never would. And she wasn't even around for it. Of course, Olivia was not the kind of person to relish in someone's death, no matter what they had done to her.

Especially when that person was ultimately, herself.

But that's what made it even more difficult. She didn't understand why she was angry, because there was no one she could rationally be angry towards.

Maybe this wasn't anger, but jealousy; in its purest form.

She then let herself think about something that she had long forbidden from her mind. What could have been.

It was what they could have had. He was what they could have had, in some way or another.

And somehow; Peter could read it on her face. "I'm sorry." He whispered to her. There was nothing else to be said. Though he had said the last of his apologies long ago, and she had accepted them without question. He had nothing to be sorry for anymore.

She was angry at the world for doing this to them. Even if she were eternally grateful that Peter was there standing in front of her once again, she was still angry.

And then Peter told her just what she needed to hear, even if she hadn't realized it.

"I'm am always here, though." He whispered, cupping her face, "I love you, and if there were a way to make this easier for you, I would."

"I know you would," She rasped, "It's just…difficult, and complicated. You can understand that, right?" Peter nodded, "But you're right," Olivia continued, "You're here, with me. And that's already made things so much easier…I love you too."


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for smut. That is all.

"Though lovers be lost, love shall not."

-Dylan Thomas  
\----------------------

They dropped the Henry subject for the rest of the night. Concluding that it-like many other things-was something they would deal with when the time came.

She had missed nights like this; when they would stay up until the earliest hours of the morning, talking about anything, and everything. Peter loved it because it was in those rare moments when he could really see Olivia open up. Even after so much time, and he was still astounded by the little things he did not know about her. He loved hearing her go off about the things she really believed in, while unconsciously moving her hands about, while he would watch her facial expressions change. Moreover, he missed the way she would inch her way closer to him as the night went on, until eventually they would fall asleep pressed against each other.

Kind of like tonight.

Even if sleep wasn't exactly what they were achieving.

"I hate to ask this," Peter started, unconsciously holding on to her tighter, like a reflex, "but, how long are you here for?"

Olivia swallowed, and Peter could feel her tense up. Of course, it was a question better asked sooner than later, Peter was aware that this was no permanent ordeal, or at least that was his best guess.

She wasn't someone who would just leave her life behind, and he knew that.

Not matter how often she questioned her morality, Olivia would never simply abandon the people she cared about. Not like this.

Would she?

"Two weeks," she answered, then, "though, without Walter's device, I don't know if I'll be able to get back, now at all." There was some remorse in her voice, some.

"Oh," was his only reply, there were so many ways news like this could be taken, "why two weeks?"

"Because that's when the universes are synchronized…Since what happened; that's the only time I have even a percentage of a chance to cross over again," Even in the darkness she could see the room shimmering around her, the thought of going back without him was nauseating. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Nothing had to be said for Peter to know what she was feeling. He could feel her heart racing underneath his palm, and not in a good kind of way. "And after that?" He asked, the words burning him from the inside out.

She furiously shook her head, "you don't want to know," she choked.

"Yes I do," Peter whispered in reply.

Like it mattered, she would have to tell him eventually, anyway. Sighing, she told him, "despite what you or I may believe, the universes are repairing themselves, they're healing. The progression is slow, almost undetectable, but happening. And by the time the universes are in sync again, it could be too late."

Too late.

Why was that always the case with them? Peter had seen the results of being 'too late' far too many times.

Olivia spoke again, "and Walter said that; if I stay too long, then, the universe may try to force me out anyway…'course correction' so to speak."

He sighed deeply, "there's really no way around this, is there?"

"No," she barely whispered, being too choked up now to even form audible words. Knowing very well what 'this' meant. These two weeks, they are hardly a second chance.

They are a goodbye.

And within each other, and themselves, they knew that. They could feel it. It was an inevitable feeling, so real, yet, so painful.

She knew the circumstances, and her goal was never to necessarily bring Peter back with her. Looking back on it, truthfully; she did not know what her initial goal was, having hardly expected this to work in the first place. Maybe it had been irrational to think she would just go about finding Peter, and then everything would be well again.

Most of the time you expect reunions to be blissful, and hopeful. Knowing that you can now start a life again with the person you love.

But this, all that this was, was the beginning of the end.

"Hey," Peter comforted, then, "at least we have sometime."

"I know," she replied, "but it will be over before we know it."

"It's not over yet," he told her, then, kissing the top of her head, "it's not over yet. You're here, and I'm here. Together."

Those words were enough to bring some sort of warmth to what she was feeling.

He was there, regardless of everything. Peter was there, and she had to keep telling herself that.

And maybe there was a way around this.

It had once been deemed an impossibility that she would ever see Peter again; yet she defied those odds.

'I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do.'

Back when Peter had said those words to her; she had not even had the slightest idea of what was yet to come. It was only shortly after that that that she had learned he was from the Other Side. And even then, she had no idea that someday she would cross over-twice-to try and get him back.

Her biggest fear right from the beginning, was that he would choose his real home over everything else. And as selfish as it may have been; over her.

The thing was, they were not selfish, even from the very beginning

Above all, they were never selfish together. The time that they had almost kissed was proof of that. Olivia could have kissed him then. And she wanted to, so much.

But at that moment she knew that what was more important was utilizing her abilities, in the end, to save hundreds of people. And Peter could wait.

To them, having one and other always came second to saving the world.

Maybe the selfish part was expecting the world to return the favor every once in a while.

Everything was still glowing. Olivia kept her eyes closed and curled herself into Peter even more, if that were even possible. Wishing then that she could just stop time and stay there forever.

Then ay again, stopping time was hardly just an expression to them anymore. If either were tempted enough; they would probably try to do it.

"I thought I had forgotten what this is like," Olivia said then, "you and me. Nights like this."

"Me too," he whispered, "there is nowhere else in the world I'd rather be right now." He noticed the way she held her eyes closed, pain still strewn on her face, "hey," he comforted, grabbing her face in a way that forced her to turn over. "Look at me," she did just that. Her eyes sparkling with the tears that threatened to fall. It was all Peter could see through the minimal lighting the room had to offer. He had forgotten what it was like to look at that beautiful face of hers, and to gaze into those stunning green eyes. Those same eyes that could see right into his heart. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tears that had now spilled over.

There was a soft smile on his face, and it brought comfort to her heart. She could no longer fight the quiet sob that escaped her lips, but Peter silenced it by bringing his own mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. So different than the ones they had shared earlier in the day; it was full of unspoken desire.

Olivia returned the kiss in full, letting his tongue invade her mouth.

They pulled apart only for a second, silently gasping for air, they gazed heavily into each others' eyes as if asking for approval of what was about to happen. Not that it was really needed.

All motives were well taken over by instinct, now. Peter leaned into her until she was laying on her back, hovering over her and holding himself up with one arm. He pulled her in by the hip with the other, all driven by the natural intuitive desire to feel her closer to him. His fingers traced the skin just above the hem of her pants. The delicate yet overpowering feel of his touch sending sparks of energy throughout her entire body, igniting a fire that had long burned out.

He then began working at the buttons of her shirt, and too languorously for either of their liking. Patience was quickly becoming a lost cause. Soon after the shirt was discarded, Olivia locked her arms around his shoulders, using her strength to roll them over. She paused, cupping his face in her hands, simply taking him in for a second amongst everything. He was glimmering still-but for different reasons, now. And more importantly, now she was able to see past it.

She didn't see Peter surrounded by the glimmer.

She just saw Peter.

Then she leaned over and kissed him again, as she did so Peter did away with the rest of her top layers, all while grazing his teeth down his neck, finding that one spot that drove her mad. Something he had not forgotten, that was for sure.

It was his turn, then, to take her in for a moment.

There she was, half naked and exposed in front of him. Raw, vulnerable…

Beautiful.

"I missed you." He whispered. They were words he could never tell her enough.

Olivia knew she didn't have to say anything in return, and he didn't expect her to. It was all there in the distant pain that formed in her eyes, and they way she bit her lip to keep from quivering. He delicately stroked her face, and then rolled them over so he could get a better view of it. That time there was no objection from Olivia's end of it.

He rested half of his body weight on her as not to crush her, kissing the plump lip she had clenched in her teeth, and biting it with his own.

Driven by impatience, Olivia removed his shirt then, most like ripping off a few of the buttons. The rest of his clothes quickly followed, and then hers, leaving them bare against each other.

The sentiment of the moment was wonderful, but their minds and bodies now were entirely consumed with covetousness.

Olivia ached for the feel of him, for him to take her mind elsewhere and drown out the world around them, let the feel of him devour her whole existence.

Peter scattered kisses all down her torso, Olivia arched into him, wrapping one leg tighter around him, trying to bring some satisfaction to the need that was ever growing within her. "Peter…" She moaned as he came back up to her mouth to silence her. Olivia pulled away "I need you," she swallowed, Peter hummed in response.

The teasing was hardly necessary, it had been so long. His gaze alone at that moment almost could have sent her to that same far away place.

He pushed into her slowly, receiving a quiet yelp from her in response. It didn't take long for them to find a solid rhythm. She rocked her hips into him, emitting more small cries. The crest of a wave building, crashing as she spilled over entirely, calling his name. Peter followed so shortly after, he hovered above her until he could no longer bear his own body weight. He rolled over onto his side so he could look at her, still, as the both tried to return to a regular breathing pattern.

He then remembered how sometimes; this was his favorite way to look at her. Skin still shining from the thin layer of perspiration that dampened the edges of her hair. Her shining emerald eyes and flushed cheeks. She was glowing. He grabbed her face and she held onto his shoulders, "You're beautiful," he told her, still somewhat fighting for air.

If it were possible, her heart raced even more. She half innocently grinned, laughing internally at her next choice of words, "you're not so bad yourself." She bit her lip coyly.

Peter let out a breathy laugh, she was absolutely endearing, and was captivated by her smile. Yes, he had seen it since she got here, but not like this, that portrayed true happiness. Maybe it was somewhat influenced by what had take place only minutes ago, now, and that was more than okay. He placed his thumb on the corner of her mouth, and she sank into his touch.

He wondered then, how he had ever left this all behind.

"I'm sorry," he whispered lowly, that crease etched on is forehead as he looked at her.

She shook her head against his hand, "Don't…Peter."

He'd missed hearing her say his name, too. "I should have tried harder, I should have fought for you."

"You would have died," she informed without hesitation, "and don't tell me it would have been better off that way because you know I would have blamed myself, and that is the only thing that I could possibly think, would have been worse."

"At least then you would have been able to move on," Peter urged, "and not had to worry about me, and if I were okay, if there were a way back here. You wouldn't have had to played 'what if' every single day."

"I stopped playing 'what if' a while ago," Olivia informed him, "it was easier that way."

"Whatever the circumstances, I'm still sorry," he continued. "I caused you pain, and that is the last thing I ever wanted to do," he paused to press a kiss onto her temple, Olivia threaded her hands through his hair, pulling him so their foreheads were touching. "I'm sorry, Olivia."

It was impossible to ignore the pain etched deep in his expressions, she'd be lying if she said it weren't killing her on the inside, "We both did what we believed was…for the best." she choked on those last words, "and eventually, your own desires catch up with your beliefs, and then surpass them…"

"And here we are," Peter finished.

She iterated, "here we are."

"And we'll get through this," he continued, "We'll figure this out. No matter the end result, we'll get through it."

Even if she knew how awful the end result would be, she let herself agree. Maybe it was the confidence in his voice, and way he held her then.

She had always felt fearless in his embrace.

There was so much in the past that she had conquered with him at her side. And it made everything else, every failure, seem really insignificant.

He was her hope, he was her light.

"I know," She whispered, then, closing her eyes. She had always trusted and believed him before, no matter what.

So maybe she could believe this too.


	6. Chapter 5

"Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald  
\---------------------------------------------

An insomniac as long as he knew her; Peter had lost count of the times he would wake up at four in morning to find Olivia doing menial tasks, claiming that she couldn't sleep-even if on the other hand, he had also lost count of the times he had gotten the death glare from her for waking her up long before it was necessary. Like on cold mornings when she would crawl back into bed after not only five minutes of being awake, pulling the sheets all up around her face, being consumed by the fabric. Peter found it endearing, she was simply adorable. He would climb into the bed and lie next to her, nuzzling his face against hers.

"Olivia…" He'd sing-song as if she were a child. The only response he would get would be a tired groan. Sometimes his returned motives would be equally as childish; by pulling the covers away or tickling her sides, just enough to make her jump and leaving her curled against him, giggling.

It was agonizing, the way he longed for those mornings after she was gone. Sometimes he would dream of exactly that, waking up next to her, and thinking that the nightmare was over, only to wake up again in the ever disappointing reality.

As much as he was not the morning person that Olivia was, there was something about those times that was the most significant to him.

He would have gladly relived all of the moments she had woken him up before the sun rose-even before they were together-usually because of a case. He would never sleep again if it meant he could have her back. Forever.

His dreams were entirely different now that she was back, though. Mildly ironic, even.

It was unfortunate-the way he hardly remembered the last morning he had ever spent with her; until this one, of course. Truth be told he didn't remember very much of that day in general, and maybe it was because he didn't want to. But somewhere deep in his unconscious mind all of those memories ran heavy, like a cold blade across his heart.

Not that it mattered much, because nightmare or not, the most awfully painful parts were still crystal clear in his head. The parts he adversely wish he could forget.

Her face.

He saw her face, bearing that dreadful, desperate, and primarily broken look. The last image he had of her as the universe pulled away, and took her with it. And through the chaos of the universes tearing apart, he swore he heard her call his name. It wasn't even loud, or mangled, or angry. It was pleading, and oh so sorrowful. All he wanted to do in that moment was run and take her in his arms, take away her pain. Let it all disappear.

And he wakes up before he has a chance to be overcome with that sickening pain in his heart, again. After a few moments of delirium, he instead was washed over with a feeling of warmth, figuratively and literally. The sun was beating into the room, and Olivia was sleeping next to him. He pressed himself into her back, placing soft kisses on the back of her neck, nestling into it to take her in. It was his turn to be reminded that this was real. He held her close, just like he had wanted to do back then. Part of him wished that he had cherished every moment like this just a little bit more, appreciated it.

Like the last morning they had spent together that was coming back to him, and not necessarily for the better.

But after all, this was their second chance. And if he hadn't fully appreciated those moments in the past, then he would start now.

He had also missed watching her sleep, like now, the way that one strand of hair would flutter over her face ever time she exhaled. Delicately, he brushed that same hair away. Peter didn't even bother suppressing the grin that adorned his face.

This was what happiness was.

Maybe it's true, you don't know what you have until it's gone.

But what about when you get it back?

Peter had never been more grateful for anything in his life. From the moment he saw her lying in that hospital bed, he thanked every force of nature, he thanked fate and the universe, and every higher power he wasn't sure if he believed in; for bringing her back to him.

And more than anything, he thanked Olivia. For not giving up, and for still believing in them. And believing that what they had was worth fighting for, and going to the most extreme lengths to save.

Olivia stirred, and until then Peter hadn't noticed his unconscious stroking of her hair. She pulled him from his thoughts, though. He couldn't really complain.

She shifted so that their faces were almost touching, "hi," Olivia rasped, not even opening her eyes all of the way yet. She smiled almost instantly once she became aware.

Peter traced the outline of her face with his thumb, "good morning," he whispered, nuzzling his face to hers. It was amazing how the atmosphere of the room was so different now as apposed to the night before. Not that the night before had been bad, but, even in the midst of their relations, there had been an intensity in the air. Maybe the lightness was partially swayed by endorphins, but the other part was their broken hearts finally being healed, and both of them finally realizing that.

There was a certain burden that neither of them carried any longer, and the feeling of that weight being gone, of letting it go, was ultimately a foreign feeling, strange at first.

No matter how this whole ordeal ended, they knew that instead of the heavy feeling of regret, they would only carry the heavy feeling of each other. Their love for each other. No matter what was to come, some portion of their lives were now changed for the better.

This second chance more than most people could say they had gotten.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked then, and if it were possible, he held her a little bit closer.

She smiled, reciprocating his actions and absolutely melting into his embrace, "good." She replied, it was a more sensible answer than 'better,' because she didn't just feel better than the night before.

She felt good, and she felt more than that, correlating with other indescribable feelings. Surely there was some layer of her that was still heavily ailed by her crossing over, but at this point that layer was nowhere near the surface. For now she'd embrace this new found elation.

"That's good," he said lowly, kissing her lips softly, a nearly unavoidable action given how close they were.

And their proximity did not falter for a while, as they simply lied there, wordless, with the feeling of bare skin against bare skin, swallowed whole by each others' warmth and presence. Peter sighed in satisfaction.

"What is it?" Olivia questioned.

"Nothing," he replied, "I just haven't seen that smile in a long time. I've missed it. I didn't get to tell you that last night."

"Peter…" she drawled almost seeming embarrassed, shyly hiding half her face in the pillow. She bit her lip as if to suppress more smiling.

"What?" He chuckled, brushing more hair out of her face.

Her smile then faltered minimally, as that offending glow seemed to envelope him again. Though this time she couldn't exactly explain why.

There was that lone fear that ultimately unavoidable, but as of right now, that fear was neatly tucked away in a dark corner of her mind.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked before she could even try and ignore it, he instantly noticed the change in her eyes.

Olivia shook her head, trying to pick and choose from the hundreds of things she wanted to say, "Did you think we would ever have this again?" She decided to ask instead, Peter knew what she was pertaining to.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, but with not a hint of remorse, "I really just…don't know."

It was true, there had been days of hope, and days of despair. Eventually the days of hope had become few and far between, but in the end, he was clueless.

But there were answers now, and that really was what was most important, "what about you?" He iterated.

Olivia sighed heavily, her eyes locked with his, "you know me," she started, "for a long time, I had nothing to hold on to. In fact that never really went away, so no. No I did not, because most of the time I wouldn't let myself believe in something good."

Peter hummed sympathetically, "I'm sorry," he said then.

Despite everything, she was caught mildly by surprise, "it's not your fault."

"I-I know," he relinquished. Even if he didn't always believe it, he believed her. "But I am still sorry you felt that way."

She shook her head again, "It's okay, now," she whispered, "It's okay."

"Pancakes," Olivia said as if she'd had a revelation.

It was quite a 'what in the world?' moment for Peter. He chuckled, having not a clue what she was getting at, "what?" He asked again.

"The last time we had breakfast together, you made pancakes, and we were bantering over whether or not one of them was in the shape of-"

"-Wisconsin," he cut her off, now remembering it clearly. Though, that was still not the last morning they had spent together. That much he knew, because that morning they hadn't eaten breakfast. Instead, they argued over something much more meaningful than breakfast food in the shape of states.

Olivia whispered in affirmation, "Yeah…and then we somehow got on the topic of the geography over…here."

"What we didn't know then…" he absent mindedly stated. They fell silent, as neither of them really knew how to bring up the next topic that they both were thinking of.

But Olivia, straight forward as always, started, "Do you…do you remember the day after that?"

Of course he did.

Most of it, anyway.

"I do," he admitted, "and I swear, had I known that day would turn into…what it did, I would not have let things end that way."

That was an understatement.

"I would have done a lot of things differently, to be quite honest," Olivia inferred. Her lips became a thin line as if trying to hold in anything else she was feeling.

Peter then took her hand in his own, their fingers intertwining. He held it so tightly it was almost uncomfortable for her, but it was a pain she could ignore. "I try to forget about that day, a lot," he started, "But…it's hard to forget about something you think about all of the time."

What she asked next was more of a rhetorical question, or so she thought, "That day?"

Peter shook his head, "No…you."

That same raw emotion washed over her again, accompanied by that familiar ache in her chest. Her mental state trying to get the best of her again, and make itself physically known. She suppressed it for now, something she always did best. As always though, Peter noticed.

"Hey," he comforted, "It's…it's alright. We don't need to talk about this now."

As much as she wanted to believe him, part of her wanted to just face the subject and get it over with. But that would mean, facing many other things, too.

"Let's pick up where we left off…kind of," he imparted, then, "I can make some regular, non-geographical, pancakes."

Olivia couldn't help but smile at that, "okay." That was her only response, and the only response he needed.

"These are good," she complimented.

Peter laughed, "you sound so surprised. You've always liked my cooking," he implied, taking his seat across from her, "but I wouldn't be so disconcerted if I had in fact gotten better over the years. The only person I've really needed to impress lately is a 7 year old, so…"

He then half expected some sort of adverse reaction out of her. Instead though, she just smiled, accepting his words. And what really admonished him was how her body language suggested she wanted him to continue, to tell her more. "He likes my cooking," so Peter said, shrugging.

"I'll bet," she added, taking another bite.

Peter hummed, "well, I do have some competition. Apparently Marilyn makes toast and cuts it into the shape of-"

"stars?" Olivia cut him off.

It was absolutely no surprise that this was a trait shared with her own mother. And if she were being honest with herself, that was one of the many parts of her childhood that she had forgotten, until now. But as soon as Peter brought it up, the memory came back to her, crystal clear.

"Yeah," he confirmed, not even needing to ask how she knew.

"So…how exactly does that whole situation work?" The question was driven out of pure curiosity.

There was no better place to start from, than the beginning.

"He was only a little over a year old when I got here. And Marilyn had already been taking care of him for those few weeks…after everything happened, and after she died. I was still…not taking things well at that time. I would think of him and only be reminded of a time in my life when I had been so careless, and she had just lost her daughter…she needed him more than I did. That was that, and that was how it stayed. It never became a legal matter, not that it ever would have needed to. I see him when I see him. It was harder at first. There was…animosity, I guess you could say-for obvious reasons. But it got better with time…and he's my whole life now." It suddenly became evident how difficult this situation could become. Peter stared off into a far corner of the room, consumed with his own thoughts.

Of course, Olivia was more than aware of his sudden discomposure, "Peter?" She called, sounding comforting. He looked her straight in the eye, comforted by the forgiveness he saw, "it's okay." Her words were genuine. Peter was captivated in every good way possible at her such compassionate heart. "You don't have to feel guilty…or whatever it is you're feeling, just because you were able to make something out of your life. Even when I couldn't."

But he was made so aware then of how he wanted to be that something. He wanted to be there to make her life great. He wanted to be a part of her, and not just a part that she would carry like a weight in her soul. But there, physically. Every day, to see her in the morning, to kiss her goodnight. To be there for her to lean on when things got rough, to be there when she needed someone for no reason at all.

Unselfishly, the times when he was there for her, she would also be there for him. Even if she never realized it. And the thought of her spending so much time going through these things alone, hurt him in a way that only people as connected as them, could hurt.

He wanted to share his life with her, and it was then, that he realized he could not go back to before. It was simply not an option.

"It's not how I ever imagined becoming a parent," he told her though, then, with every implication in his voice.

Evident as what he was implying was, she could see what he was still holding back, "Does it matter now, though?"

He just shook his head, "of course not."

"Well, then there you go," Olivia shrugged.

"It's all so complicated," he then added, "I don't know if I could explain it."

"He's your son, Peter. You don't need an explanation." Maybe she couldn't necessarily relate, but she understood.

He was Peter's son.

Even if part of her couldn't exactly wrap her head around it, she was going to try.

What she more or less couldn't really wrap her head around was that; he was a child made up of both of them, but not herself specifically. He was part of a future she had dreamed of, exceptions being merely biological.

"I understand now, though," Peter then added, "Why Walter did everything he did to protect me. All of it." In all truth, Peter had understood it for a long time now. Everything that Walter did had Peter's best interest at heart, no matter the cost and no matter who it affected in the process. Though, if worst came to worst he would probably be somewhat more sensible. Peter was not the same person as his father, after all. And at that moment he wasn't sure if that were good or bad. "I wish that I could tell him that I understand, though. And that I forgive him."

"I am sure he knows…at least to some extent," Olivia assured, then.

Peter looked up from his hands, "Really?"

She gave him a reassuring nod, "Yes…and if nothing else, he knows you are no longer angry with him because of those things. Trust me."

"I do…I do trust you," he whispered, "I just wish I could tell him myself."

The room became silent, then. Olivia selfishly wanted to add 'me too' even if she knew she shouldn't. And even if Peter would understand.

She also could have told him that she will tell Walter when she got back. Of course, that would mean thinking about actually going back, and considering it. At this point, simply letting it be a possibility was already too much. And that overwhelming feeling of despair came back, again, followed by an anxiety that made her want to spit up her breakfast. Albeit, she wearily forced herself to eat what was left on her plate, but that was a lost cause.

"You finished?" Peter asked after minutes of silence.

She nodded, "yes," not even objecting with the fact that she could clean up after herself.

"I'm going to shower," Peter added then while drying his hands, "feel free to join me." He imparted it ever so casually.

Olivia didn't respond, she just remained in her seat and blushing minutely. When Peter entered the bathroom she waited until she heard the water start, and then counted the minutes until she would enter.

And she did that, stripping off her clothes, which happened to be only his shirt. Pulling back the curtain revealed ripples of water flowing down his toned body, she had to try and mentally calm the feelings that were stirring low inside of her. She stepped in and Peter instantly turned around so that he was now facing her, pulling her closer to him by the small of her back.

The warm water and his presence alone instantly started soothing away the dull aches that still lingered in her bones. Peter absentmindedly started massaging her shoulders, and she melted into his touch. Her legs were hardly holding her up anymore as she leaned into him, resting the side of her face on his chest.

For a moment, she let herself forget the world around them. As everything suddenly seemed so far away. When she closed her eyes she overtly went somewhere else, just for a moment. She was pulled back to reality only to hear Peter calling her name, and for what was probably the third or fourth time now.

Looking up at him, she whispered, "sorry," but still smiling.

"You okay?" Was all he asked in return.

Olivia nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I am just fine."


	7. Chapter 6

They had both thought about children in the past, there was no denying it. And Olivia would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about having kids with him long before they were together. Whether it be when she was spending time with Ella, or hearing other people talk about their children, she knew that she would someday want that.

And the face that would come to mind in correlation, was always Peter's.

Back when there was hope that their dreams could become reality.

The first time they had ever talked about it, Peter teased her about being the only woman he had ever met that didn't have names picked out already.

She then asked him how many other women he had that same conversation with. 'Far enough' was his only rebuttal.

They had a scare once, only a few months before their separation. At the time there was a small part both of them that bad been disappointed. But in hindsight, it was probably for the best, now, knowing what they know.

Or maybe somehow that would have changed things. Evening the balance-so to speak. And maybe then Peter wouldn't have had to go back.

That was another thing she thought about more often than she should have.

Then again, every thought and every dream about children that she had ever tied into him, had been made obsolete the night she found out about Henry.

It wasn't about the fact alone that this child existed. She wasn't angry at Peter for being 'irresponsible' or whatever the case was.

She had already taken so much away from them, and the times they shared. Their firsts. First date, first kiss, first time, first this and first that. And now, their first child. Because back then there was still hope of having that future with him. Even if in the grand scheme of things now, so much more had been taken away from them. More than what was just certain times they would share together, but every time they would share together.

Years gone. A future; gone.

And this was something that Olivia had expressed to Peter in the past. And he had promised her that that wasn't the case. She could only take away as much as they allowed her to. He promised.

He promised.

Even if Olivia was never one to let her guard down, there was something about Peter that would just leave her defenseless. He would make promises, and she would believe him. Which was something she hadn't done in a long time. If ever. She never really believed that people keep their promises, and never understood how two words could really secure much of anything.

And maybe it was her own damn fault, for actually believing in it. For once, believing in his words. Believing in the life that he had sworn she would have, they would have. And Olivia of all people knew just how precious and fragile life really was.

It was conceivable that this was one of the many things that made Peter so different from anyone else. The way she could fall so vulnerable in his presence. The way she would so effortlessly, or as she thought-stupidly-trust him.

She'd spent most of her life believing the whole world was out to get her. Peter was the one person she believed otherwise about. And even If the whole world actually ever were out to get her, he would be there,standing up against them all.

However, maybe in this sense, the world was against her. Or against them.

Though, the way he could make her open up without even trying, hadn't changed. It was all she thought about as she sat against him on his couch. Peter stroking her hair that was still damp from the shower.

"I wish I could make this easier for you," Peter rasped, "I know the anticipation of all of this being over, is killing you on the inside. And if there were something I could do to help. Or if there is. Just tell me."

She shook her head against him, "there's nothing I could ask you to do, honestly. Because there isn't anything that could fix this. And like you said, I know that if I asked, you would go as far as alter time. But I don't need that. What I need is to figure out my priorities…I guess."

"You will," he assured. "You always do, and whatever you decide, I will understand."

Olivia swallowed, composing herself the best she could. She was on the verge of tears for the hundredth time in the last few days, and quite honestly; she was growing frustrated with what this was doing to her emotionally. She truly wanted to embrace the time she now had with him, but Peter was right, she was too apprehensive about this, and it made her want to scream.

She thought about Walter, then, and how she had promised she'd be back. Through the years, all of the times Olivia had tried to cross over, she assured him that if it worked, she would be back.

But back then, she knew deep in her heart that none of those attempts were going to work. So much was easier said than done. She believed that a second chance with Peter would be enough, she really did, until she actually had it. Then she realized it wasn't. She realized that she wanted-needed-so much more.

Peter had taught her that the pain of loving someone, was worth it, because that same someone could make that pain obsolete.

"I'm just scared," she admitted, then, "that's about the only thing I've really been feeling, recently." Peter was hesitant, as he knew the things that always came along with fear for her, but Olivia spoke up again before he could say anything. "It used to scare me to death how much I needed you, Peter," she told him then, pleading, almost, "back then, the very thought of losing you was bitter, and painful, and I would never let myself think about it because it made me sick. But I would think about it, I thought about it anyway because that's what I do. Because sometimes I would feel like I was simply doomed to lose anyone I ever loved, and I was proved right.""Olivia…" he hushed her, but she continued.

"It took so much for me to let myself love you the way I did, and still do. And I just ended up being betrayed, by the universe itself. Again." What Olivia had really realized was, that this was a one way street. She hadn't just given up part of her heart to him, but her soul and her very existence. It was something she could never, and would never be able to take back. And had someone told her before that she wouldn't be able to take it back, would that have stopped her? Probably not.

The way she fell for him and the way she gave herself to him was entirely outside of her control, regardless. It was intuition, almost, as a human being she knew she needed him like nobody else.

"I told Walter that I would come back," Olivia informed then, mildly changing the subject.

"And?" Peter interrogated, knowing that this was just another excuse, in a sense-to make herself feel more guilty, "Walter also said that he would send me back, and, never did. Do you think he would be so surprised if you stayed?"

She was in partial disbelief, not that she had much room to blame him. He was probably thinking just about as clearly as she was. It was hard to stay rational when their time together was on the line, "what?" She still questioned in shock, "how can you even say that?"

Peter shrugged stiffly, "well, are you considering it?"

Hesitating, Olivia opened her mouth to answer, searching for words justify herself. But really, that would all be a lie anyway, and Peter would be able to see it. "Of course I am," she answered instead, "of course I'm considering it. More than I've ever considered much of anything."

"I rest my case, then," Peter replied. "Not that I condone for a minute, that you leave Walter, but, I'm curious."

"I understand," Olivia complied. She knew that, -no matter what-in the end of this, not everyone could win. Somebody would end up hurt, and it would most likely be her. It always was. There was no selfish nor unselfish decision. No right or wrong. Simply; there were choices. Though not so simple. Olivia just had to chose between the lesser of two evils; or three evils. Or four or five.

Maybe the choice wasn't even hers.

Maybe the universe would try to send her back on it's own, so to speak, just like Walter had forewarned. Was she willing to test and risk that?

Of course she was.

She had already risked so much, and accomplished even more than that. Why stop now?

"I never stopped caring," she told him, then, "about you, and about us."

"Why are you telling me this?" Peter had to ask, "I know that, Olivia."

"I just feel like you should know," she admitted. "You should know, that I never, ever, doubted us. Even when I wanted to, even when maybe I should have. When…when there were times when I should have stopped caring, because it would have been easier, and because maybe I should have started to let you go. And I feel like now, now I would have to. For the best interest of everyone else I would have to let you go."

"For one;" Peter started, "had you ever stopped caring; had you ever stopped believing in us, you wouldn't even be here right now. And yes, you have to keep everybody's better interest in mind. Just like you always, always do, one of the many things I will forever admire and love about you, but, what about you, Olivia?" His words were possibly less selfish than the things she was feeling were.

"What about me?" She inquired.

"What about your best interest?" Peter reiterated, "and what about mine?" And Olivia hesitated. Peter stood up, then, making a beeline towards the shelf behind them. He picked up a picture, the same one of Henry that Olivia had looked at the day before. Silently, he sat back down while popping open the back of the frame. It revealed another photo tucked behind it. An older one-much older. An old Polaroid. "Do you remember this?" He asked.

She couldn't help but smile then, "how could I not?" she replied with the smallest hint of a laugh. "I have the other one that Walter took." It was cliché, almost, how she had the second photo similar to that one. It was taken only seconds or so after the one Peter held in his hand. Almost exactly the same, only they weren't paying attention to the camera, still all smiles, simply-natural looking. It was serene and innocent.

Look what I found!" Walter enthused when the two of them entered the lab. He held up the old camera that he had found, "it still works, too, and has some film left."

"That's great, Walter," Peter mused.

"Smile, son." Walter commanded, then, but Peter was not having it. He did what was probably the complete opposite, then frowning, creating a crease between his eyebrows. "Come on," Walter urged, "Olivia, you join in too."

She had chortled and began to object when Peter grabbed her sides, wrapping his arms around her top half as she stood one stair step below him. Walter snapped the picture before either of them could think, but they were both smiling, which was Walter's ultimate goal anyway. He took another shot shortly after, as Olivia buried her face into Peter's chest, now in a complete fit of laughter, because of something Peter had whispered to her moments ago.

It was moments like those that sometimes she needed the most. Just a minute to forget about all of the bad things she had seen during the day, and laugh. It was almost too commonplace for her liking, but albeit true.

And she looked at the pictures in front of her, wondering if it were somehow so awfully symbolic, that memories of that happiness had been now been covered up by the smile of a young boy.

Out of the two photos that lied on the table, her attention was only drawn to one, and not the one of herself. She was almost so caught up in it, not realizing how obvious her staring was. At least until Peter noticed.

"I wish you could meet him," Peter stated, then, taking her by much surprise.

Olivia hastily shook her head, "Peter, don't. Don't say that just for my own sake."

"I'm not just saying it," he assured, calmly, "I wish you could meet him, and, I wish that he could meet you."

"I can't, though. That can't happen." Olivia admonished, "you know that, Peter."

"I know I do," Peter whispered, "But, I guess I'm just telling you that-I would never keep you from him if…if the situation were different."

"So, if I were her for good?" She inquired, even if it were mostly a rhetorical question.

That was exactly it, no matter how many excused Peter was trying to conjure up, of course that was the reason. "Yes," he admitted. Olivia sighed heavily, starting to believe that so many decisions would be a lot easier if she were here for good. Even if for now her days here were unavoidably numbered, with every minute that passed, staying seemed like the exceptional option. She knew the possible risks and consequences that came with staying, and she knew the guilt that she would probably bear for a while.

But she would have Peter.

And it was no mystery as to how that seemed to override anything else.

"I don't know what to do," she breathed. Her head was spinning, all she wanted to do was find that one ounce of hope in this whole ordeal, and finally let out that breath of relief.

If the universes were now trying to teach her some sort of lesson, she was still far too stubborn to comply to it.

Peter was not oblivious to any of this.

They both knew their options.

Either learn to be happy with each other.

Or learn to be happy without.

The decision was not as easy as it seemed.

With each other; they were still bound to the guilts, and the burdens, and the secrets that came tied to this 'universally forbidden' love of theirs. Weights that they would carry in some capacity for the rest of their lives.

"Why did you cover up the picture?" Olivia asked then, even if in some magnitude she already knew.

"Because I was forgetting," he admitted, "forgetting little things. I was forgetting that moment, I could remember how I felt, but now why I felt that way. I couldn't remember your voice, or the things we had talked about then, even. I was forgetting so much and it scared me, so I covered up the picture and tried to bury everything we ever had. If you think for a minute that I took all of it well, then you're wrong. Because I didn't. And if you staying here is the selfish decision, then I swear, let me be selfish. Because forgetting all that I did, was worse than remembering. And that picture just reminded me of all of the things I would never know again."

And that was what this all came down to.

Yes there would be consequences to Olivia's staying here. Yes it could possibly put a strain on them.

But if she were to leave, if they were left without one and other, well-that went without saying, now.


End file.
